Our Heart in Stone
by Magic Toast
Summary: When I first saw him, more skin and bones than actual man, I hated him. 100 Theme Challenge fic, with Basch x Vaan as the subject. SHOUNEN-AI.
1. Introduction

**Our Heart in Stone**  
**Author:** Magic Toast  
**Genre:** Drabble, romance  
**Disclaimer:** Fan-fic-tion! I don't own any characters. Square-Enix owns all of them.  
**Warning:** Gay. Kissing, later? I'm writing 100 of these, I don't know what's going to happen.  
**A/N:** Um. So, I told myself that I was going to do the 100 theme challenge about a year ago...aaaand I never did. So. I'm doing it now! Vaan x Basch BEST SUBJECT EVARRR. I'm going to try and put up one drabble a day, and they're going to be very, very short. 100 words or so. They'll follow from Basch and Vaan's first meeting to when I (inevitably) put them in bed. On the bright side, it'll be a very, very easy read. Enjoy!

* * *

When I first saw him, more skin and bones than actual man, I hated him.  
I can't remember what I was actually thinking at the time-- probably some self-righteous drabble along the lines of "it's all your fault" and "my brother's dead because of you." I remember yelling, screaming, rattling the bars of the cage, jerking him back and forth against his cold, metal restraints. I felt hands, Balthier's quiet shushing and maybe even a plea for silence, but I didn't hear anything.  
I didn't hear anything except his breathing, and I wanted it to stop.


	2. Breathe Again

The clinking of chain and gear was the only warning I got before we were falling; it seemed like it was going on forever, and I could see his eyes in the dark, wet and glittering as we fell, and I felt something. I wanted to yell more, but the rush of air stole the breath from my lungs, and I could only look. He might have been mouthing words, but I couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.  
When we hit the cold stone of Barheim Passage, I was jerked away from the cage, skittering several yards away, dazed. The next few moments were a blur of memory, of Reks's cold skin, of the unbearable dark, of everything that went wrong since he'd been gone--  
And I breathed. 


	3. Dark

It was unbearably, unfathomably dark. I was trapped in a world of my own creation, a world without Reks, a world where I only saw myself throwing down the last flower on his grave over, and over, and over, and over--  
It wasn't until I heard the low creak of the cage's door swinging open and the clinking of his shackles being unlocked that I opened my eyes.  
It was still dark, but dim lights filtered from above, and all I could see was him, standing on his own for the first time in two years, and I thought that maybe my darkness was more comfortable after all. 


	4. Seeing Red

I'd never really wanted to kill a man. I'd wanted people dead, but I'd never really given any thought to killing people. When I finally pulled myself together, when I saw Basch standing, I felt something I'd never felt before--  
I wanted to kill him. I wanted to hurt him, and I wanted to kill him.  
I charged towards him blindly, not paying any mind to any one around me, no one except him--  
Balthier stopped me before I could do any damage, forcing me back to the ground.  
Balthier might have said something, but I was so deeply buried in my blood lust, I couldn't understand.  
"He-- he's a--"  
Cold stone against my hands cooled my anger, but did not calm me.  
Balthier was not impressed by my emotion. "A traitor, I know. Stay here and fight, if you want." Then, to him, "If you can walk, let's go." 


	5. Drink

I gave him his first drink of water as a free man. I didn't think much of it at the time; he was coughing and trying to be quiet about it, and I passed him the small jug of water I kept strapped to my thigh. It was pure reflex-- I didn't want to help him, and I almost took it back.  
He took it from my hands before I could, and he jerked the cap from it with shaking hands, and he swallowed, swallowed, swallowed-- water was dribbling down his whiskers, but he didn't even notice.  
I followed the drops with my eyes as the fell to his chest, scowling.  
"That water's gotta last me until we get out of here," I snapped.  
He jerked the jug from his mouth and coughed apologetically, holding it out to me. I snatched it from him, replacing it at my thigh.  
"How was it?" Balthier called from ahead.  
"Sweet," he said.  
"Mm. Rabanastran water usually is."


	6. Can You Hear Me?

A/N: Happy Easter, everyone. Thank you kindly for reading my drabbles.

Balthier had been able to tease the switchboard into function. We followed behind, and Fran walked at Balthier's side, into the dimly lit tunnels.  
I hardly noticed the light's flickering, but it was difficult not to notice when they shut off entirely.  
"H-hey!"  
"Hush! Captain, say something," Balthier's words cut through the dark like a beacon of light.  
"I'm here," came his low, quiet voice.  
"Stick close to him, boy. He doesn't have a weapon. And I have a feeling--" a low grunt, followed by the sound of feet dragging on dust and muffled moans. "--that things are about to get difficult," Balthier finished grimly.  
"The mist..." Fran trailed off, words replaced by the clang of metal on bone.  
I didn't want to protect him-- I didn't want to be near him.  
"Keep close," he said, grunting as he swatted at something in the darkness.  
"It's kind of dark," I snapped, unsheathing my sword.  
He began to hum. A quiet tune that I couldn't recognize, but it gave me some notion as to where he was. I reached out, moving towards the song until my hand touched his dry skin. For a moment, I entertained the idea of simply thrusting my sword through him, of ending it right there.  
I killed the monsters in the dark instead.


	7. Failure

He didn't seem to have a problem picking the armor and weaponry from one of the corpses littering the tunnel. He swung one of the rusty swords slowly, as if it had been a long time since he had last used one.  
"Nice moves there, Captain," Balthier said, amused.  
"Don't you mean traitor?" I snapped.  
Balthier rolled his shoulders. "So they say. I didn't see him kill anyone."  
I bit my cheek hard. "My brother did."  
And then he spoke. "Reks."  
I was surprised he knew my brother's name-- maybe a little offended. Of course he knew Reks's name, he was the one who killed him.  
But he talked. He spoke about his supposed "twin," the king, and Reks. About murder, and betrayal. I couldn't believe him-- Reks would have known. Reks trusted him, and...Reks.  
"How can I believe you?"  
He shook his head, as if unable to answer. "Not me, then. Believe in your brother. He was a fine soldier. He fought to the last to protect his homeland. No-- surely he fought to protect his brother."  
I hated him more than ever, then. How could he take such liberties? How could he ever know what Rex was thinking?  
"You don't know anything!"  
Again, Balthier intercepted me before I could attack Basch, staring down at me with a knowing look.  
None of them knew anything about Reks.  
Especially not him.


	8. Stripes

I let them all walk ahead of me. I didn't want to feel his eyes bearing into my back, so I meandered behind, staring at the worn stone floor.  
I didn't mean to, but every so often, I would glance up at his back-- mostly exposed, despite the armor he wore.  
I hadn't noticed the stripes.  
Scars and welts both new and old, fat and thin, littered his back. Two years' worth of whippings. Two years' worth of pain, and no one to salve his wounds.  
And I thought punishment from Migelo was bad.


	9. Heal

The faded, peeling paint of the number four loomed over the final exit. I could feel the faint wind of the Estersands, and more than anything, I wanted to be back in Rabanastre, fighting wolves in the deserts, dreaming of the sky.  
"The mist seethes," Fran murmured, glancing solemnly at Balthier.  
"It reeks," Balthier agreed. Then, to me, "Heal yourself, boy. Things are about to get rough."  
I nodded, grabbing my last potion vial from my belt. I didn't really have any major injuries, only a few scrapes, but better safe than sorry.  
He sat a couple yard away, tightening the buckles of his armor. Pink and red welts winked at me between the rusty plates of his mail.  
I sighed, biting my cheek. Gently, I set the vial on the ground and rolled it towards him. I turned away when it bumped into his elbow; I did not watch him drink it. Instead, I watched Fran and Balthier talk quietly, imagining the scars fading away to ripples on tan skin.


	10. Out Cold

The Queen Mimic was a monstrous creature-- enormous in every aspect, with a teeming roomful of young to aid her. I shudder as another draws closer, slapping it away with the flat of my blade and hacking off one of its legs.  
Everything was moving-- the ground was alive with thousands of tiny legs, and the behemoth above me was sending off bright, blue-white bolts from her mouth, shocking me painfully in my back.  
I turned to attack her, only to come face to face with him.  
"Are you alright?" he asked, grunting with exertion as he fended off the mimics.  
I didn't answer him, instead turning away to slice at the Queen Mimic's leg.  
She shrieked in outrage, turning towards me and sending off another brilliant flash of light-- and everything went dark.


	11. Despair

A/N: Two chapters today-- I won't be home until late, so I will not be posting tomorrow.

On the day of his funeral, I could hardly tell that it was Reks lying in the coffin. I'd only seen him in his armor twice-- the first time when he was leaving, alive, supple, ready to fight for Rabanastre; the second, when he returned, dying, slow breaths punctuated by almost-silent moans of pain.  
Penelo's family paid for the burial. They said he was like a son to them, and it was the least they could do, and they were so sorry I was going through this; _first you parents, now your brother, whatever are we going to do with you, you poor boy._  
I thought it was bad when Reks left for the war. At least I knew he would come home from that.  
There's something so permanent about seeing him burning away, about seeing his ashes scattered into the desert to join with the ashes of thousands before him.  
I woke with the taste of ash in my mouth and the feeling that I'd never really been alive.


	12. Dizzy

Balthier was twirling a small, golden feather between his fingers. I watched distantly, the haze of unconciousness clearing slowly with the help of the sun and the crisp breeze.  
"The Estersand, by the look of it. Let's back to Rabanastre before we shrivel up." Then, "By your leave, Captain."  
I hadn't realized I was resting on his legs until he moved, leaving me on the soft, warm sand.  
I wasn't entirely sure how to react, so I stayed on my back, blinking at the sky.  
"Give him a potion or something, he's worse than a drunk," Balthier muttered.  
Hands on my shoulders, and a wave of white hair-- Fran.  
"Please drink," she murmured, pressing the vial to my lips. I couldn't help but wonder why she was giving it to me, when he was the one who carried me and let me rest on him.  
Then I swallowed, and shoved the thought from my head.


	13. Stars

I loved nights in the Estersands. The biting cold was such a sharp and startling contrast from the garish heat of the sun, it made me feel more alive than surrounding myself with people ever did.  
On that night, stars glowed from every corner of the sky, illuminating the desert in a dim blue light.  
Balthier, who hated the cold every bit as much as I yearned for it, had immediately made a fire and settled by it, intent on keeping as warm as possible. Fran sat protectively near by, eyes focused on Balthier while her ears swivelled and twitched at the noises of the night.  
He layed on his back, distended from the make-shift camp, staring at the stars.  
We would share their beauty, later. We would gaze at the stars from eachother's arms, and we'd kiss in their sweet, faded light.  
But for the time, though, I stayed by the fire, watching yellow-red flames gnaw at dry, dead tree limbs.


	14. Alone

Balthier gave me a steady, knowing look.  
"What?" I snapped, boyish and blushing.  
Balthier laughed. "You're a fugitive now. Stay low for a while."  
I scrubbed my cheeks with the heel of my hand. "What about--"  
Balthier leered. "The Captain?"  
"No! No, no. The...the stone. What about the stone."  
Balthier shrugged, turning away, Fran at his side. "Do as you want. That stone's ill-favored."  
They walked away, disappearing into the churning waves of people as if they were walking into the sea.  
Despite being surrounded by people, I'd never felt so alone.  
"Penelo, I'll go find Penelo..." Even though I said her name, and I kept saying her name, the only face I saw was his.  
"Go away," I hissed, darting between people as I headed towards Migelo's place. "Can't you leave me alone?"  
He was, though-- he was nowhere near me, yet he plagued my mind. I told myself that it was because of Reks, that I couldn't stop thinking about him because of Reks, even though I knew, deep down, that maybe he didn't-- maybe he wasn't--  
But that was deep down, and far away, and I needed to find Penelo.


	15. Delivery

A/N: Sorry for missing my update, yesterday. I fear that I will not be able to update every day for the next several weeks-- it's almost time for exams, and I must devote more and more time to my studies. I will try to update as much as possible, but I will probably not be able to update regularly until June. Please review.

Instead of finding Penelo or Migelo, I found...Kytes. He was quick to direct me to Dalan, naturally.  
Dalan greeted me with a startlingly familiar smile, his head tilted, eyes foggy. He always frightened me, a little-- he seemed dead, or dying, or somewhere between, and his shop was too tight, and it was hard to breathe. He made small talk, and I nodded and muttered agreements when I could.  
Finally, he handed me a sword-- it was massive, far heavier than any I ever wielded.  
"I need you to deliver this to a fellow named Azelas. You'll know him when you see him. I've marked the place on your map"  
I recognized the area-- it was usually closed off by boxes and menacing looking ex-soldiers. Whispers and rumor said it was the resistance.  
For some reason, I knew he'd be there.  
I was right.


End file.
